


Win the Day

by kedgeree



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Community: inceptiversary, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Ficlet, Inception Bingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 07:56:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7566238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kedgeree/pseuds/kedgeree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur's working late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Win the Day

**Author's Note:**

> For the Inception Trope Bingo card "heroic gestures"

Eames hung his sodden trench coat on the wall hook in the foyer and toed off his shoes. Wiping rain off his face, he padded in damp socks across the blue-dark living room toward the glow from Arthur's office, plastic bag cradled in one hand.

Arthur was hunched over his keyboard, his normally impeccable posture having succumbed to weariness at some point after the late summer sun sank beneath the Midtown skyline. His lips moved silently as his eyes darted back and forth between an enormous hardbound ledger, held open on his desk by the eroticized Space Needle souvenir Eames had brought home from Seattle last month, and the numbers he was entering into a spreadsheet on-screen. He'd been at it since not long after dawn.

Eames let his heel scuff over the carpet, trying not to sneak up, but Arthur still started, blinking up at Eames owlishly. Eames gave him a sympathetic smile. "How's it going, love?"

"Halfway through. Maybe." Arthur manfully tried to stifle an enormous yawn.

Eames bent down to kiss the top of Arthur's head, stroking a hand over his hair. "My poor petal."

Arthur knuckled one eye and frowned up at Eames. "Why are you all wet?"

"It's raining."

Arthur glanced at the droplet-jeweled window, his expression growing puzzled, like the night-time had surprised him. "I didn't know you'd gone out."

"Little errand to run."

Eames had kept the bag sheltered from the elements as best he could, tucked inside his coat, close to his body. It was still a bit drippy, though, so he opened it at the far edge of Arthur's desk, well away from his papers. He extracted the mercifully dry paper-wrapped bundle inside and pushed it toward Arthur.

"What's…" Arthur sucked in a short, sharp breath through his nose. "That's."

"Italian hero. Lightly toasted. Extra red onion."

"It's from _Silvestri's_."

"It is indeed."

"On the other side of town."

Eames made a vague humming sound of acknowledgment as he arranged the little stack of paper napkins. "As it happens, someone I both admire and adore once informed me it's the best hero in the city and their absolute favorite."

Arthur laid a reverent hand on the slightly squashed sandwich, cheeks dimpling. "Second best."

 


End file.
